Blue and Yellow
The Ukrainian flag returned in 1991 when Ukraine secured its independence from the Soviet Union. This flag contains two stripes, in which the light blue field on top symbolizes the sky and the bottom yellow field evokes the wheat for which the country is so famous. Interestingly, Ukrainian uses independent words for light blue (holobih) and dark blue (ceni). If you look up the word blue in an English/Ukrainian dictionary, both options appear.
My parents gave altar flowers for Mikola's baptism last Sunday. As you can see from the photo below, light blue and yellow dominated the display, which was designed by one of Trinity's members.
Rite of Passage
Mikola stood before the baptismal font, holding Jonathan's hand and feeling my touch on his shoulder. His brothers, sisters, and grandmother circled round, and Pastor Rogers watched from nearby as his college professor read the baptismal liturgy.
Jonathan lifted Mikola to the font, and for a moment there wasn't a sound in the entire sanctuary. Then Rev. Leonard Stahlke poured water on his grandson's head as he spoke, "Peter Mikola, I baptize you in the name of the Father . . . and the Son . . . and the Holy Spirit."
I heard Pastor Rogers quietly exclaim, "Amen"
Baptism Hymn
Mikola's mother asked for a special hymn on his baptism day. Trinity's director of music took the request and added the following hymn to the service:
Children of the heav’nly Father
Safely in His bosom gather;
Nestling bird nor star in Heaven
Such a refuge e’er was given.
God His own doth tend and nourish;
In His holy courts they flourish;
From all evil things He spares them;
In His mighty arms He bears them.
Neither life nor death shall ever
From the Lord His children sever;
Unto them His grace He showeth,
And their sorrows all He knoweth.
Though He giveth or He taketh,
God His children ne’er forsaketh;
His the loving purpose solely
To preserve them pure and holy.
First (Full) Day of School
Mikola loves school! He met me at 2:45 pm today with a big hug, followed by a game of "catch me, if you can." His teacher told me that he is adjusting well, and she related a funny story from lunchtime:
Kola's mom forgot to give him a juice box or milk money. Since today was his very first time to eat lunch at school, he didn't realize that anything was missing. The milk carton on the table looked great, so he picked it up and started drinking. Before the neighboring child could complain that someone had taken her milk, Kola decided he didn't want it anyway. Who likes cold milk when you've always enjoyed it at room temperature?
RSVP
Trinity's Board of Parish Fellowship has asked me to pass along this request. If you will be attending the luncheon following Mikola's baptism, could you contact the church office? They would like a head count so that they can prepare enough seating, drinks, etc. for the potluck dinner.
Trinity Lutheran Church
630-834-3440
church secretary: Margaret Cotterill (mcotterill@trinityvp.org)
Please leave a message if you telephone at times when the church office is not open.
The baptism will take place near the beginning of the 10:30 worship service. Even if you don't get a chance to RSVP for the dinner, we would still love to have you join us.
First Day of School
Mikola has now recovered from the stomach flu. He attended kindergarten class for the first time today, meeting with his group ("gruppe") from 8:15 am until just before lunch. Tomorrow, he'll remain with them all day.
In Ukraine, children start school at age 7. Since Mikola is five years old, he is proud to be a "big kid" and start school early. Here's a photo of Sarah, Mikola, and David as we left the house this morning:
Advance Work on the Visa
To answer a question in a recent comment:
The advance work on the visa is the I-600A application and the resulting I171-H approval. I believe these are the documents needed when a child is not a biological relative of the adoptive parents. After the child is adopted, then the I-600 form replaces the I-600A.
We basically just filled out whatvever papers that our agency told us to complete, but I believe that the above is correct. For more information, see the adoption portion of the embassy website:
kiev.usembassy.gov
Blogging
I could write a book about the last few days, but there's only been time to jot down notes. We had a great weekend, but Kola caught the stomach flu and I'll be at home with him for several days.
As I can get to a computer, I'll tell you more news.
He's a delight, and we are all reveling in him!
Arrival - Thursday night, 11:00pm
What Joy - our little boy is with us!
The Coming Reunion
Emotions of all kinds are swirling--for all of us.
U.S. Paperwork
Here's the rundown on Jonathan's current document work for Kola:
Monday, October 13Our lawyer in Kirovohrad received Mikola's Ukrainian passport through "passport mail"(we could never figure out exactly what that means). The lawyer then sent the passport back to Kyiv via train or bus.
Once we knew that the passport was in hand, Jonathan telephoned our travel agent in Florida to get travel arrangements finalized.
Tuesday, October 14Fairly early this morning, Jonathan took Mikola for his physical, and the doctors completed all the medical paperwork required by the U.S. embassy. An important part of this exam is compiling a detailed list of Mikola's immunizations.
In the afternoon, Jonathan and Mikola attended their appointment at the U.S. embassy. They applied for Mikola's visa, although it's more accurate to say that they continued his application. Jonathan and I did a lot of advance work on this in Chicago, covering all topics that pertained to us as parents.
The consul in the U.S. embassy also interviewed Jonathan about his adoption experiences during his time in Ukraine. The embassy uses information from adoptive parents to update the adoption portion of their website. Their work has helped me, for the embassy website has been a daily destination for me for years.
Another (Long) Journal Entry
[Mary's editorial comments are in brackets. Please note the date--over a week ago. This entry is lengthy, but it gives a good idea of a typical day for Jonathan in Kirovohrad.]
______________________________________
JOURNAL Day 10 (Friday, 3 October 2008)
AM: Last morning with no water [due to scheduled maintenance on the water main]. Things are getting a little dire. I actually dipped into a little of the bottled drinking water reserve in order to wash. No dishes this morning. They'll all wait until there's water, at this point.
I write Rachel's letter, have breakfast, and wash up.
I brought Kola a banana this morning, and since I didn't keep as careful track these days, I'm having trouble distinguishing between the visits. Morning went fine, but Kola was still pretty distracted, playing with other groups of (younger) kids, and interacting more and more with all of the adults on the grounds. They are curious about his future, and he's processing everything. I detect a hint of sadness in many of their congratulations, some of them giving him a big hug, like it might be their last. One more caretaker photo this morning.
Sasha took me [in his taxi] to Barvinok [the orphanage for school age children] to deliver the pump that we were able to buy [so the kids can add air to the soccer balls we gave them]. I thought I better get that done before Masha blows into town. This visit was quick and painless. Saw the director and left. All very friendly.
There IS water downtown, so I went to the "new" restaurant, where I could get some quiet, sit long, and write the last two letters to Sarah and David. They make me cry to write them; especially the part about Sarah asking for Kola over and over for three years.
Around 2:00 pm, I go photocopy all of [the letters] at the photo store, mail at the post office, do a quick internet check for information about phoning home tonight, and make a first attempt to withdraw money off my credit card. There was too long a wait for this, but I don't think the process will be bad on Monday, if I'm here during business hours on Monday.
PM: I finally got some more tears out of Kola. After general distraction, but before the juicebox and chocolate, I took him to a more secluded part of the grounds, near the [empty] "pool" where we often spend time together, over on the right side of the building. I rehearsed next Tuesday's events [his leave-taking from the orphanage], and my being gone on Monday to do document work out in the country ("na misto"), and he had a constant list of requests to do any number of things besides staying on my lap and listening. I held him pretty tight, and he was struggling, and he eventually cried. Not a lot, but definitely a cry. My Mom had said a few days ago that he probably needs to cry, and that shouldn't be ignored. Well, we accomplished it.
I asked him if he was sad. "Yes." Scared? "Yes." Do you understand what I said? "Yes." I almost asked him to repeat what I had said, but it was already a lot. We tied a ball to some new string I had bought, did some other fun activities, and he asked me to sing while I pushed him on the swing. Only, the Russian word for "sing" does not resemble the Ukrainian, so I had to play 20 questions to figure out what he was wanting. Yes, "spivaty"!
In the evening, I went home right away to check the status of the water. On the way, we went by "Yenot" (Raccoon), which is the clothes washing place, and it was open, but not accepting more clothes until tomorrow. I can imagine they are swamped at this point. Back at home, the water was on. (Hallelujah!) I ate supper while the water was heating, bathed, and organized myself for a big call home to talk to Mary about a long list of significant things.
At 7:15, I walked into town, and called Masha on the way for the "update on the plan."
At 8:15, I get through to Mary and we talk for an hour (only $12 US, if I call from Telekom!). This [our telephone call] was my second hot bath for the day - relaxing, reassuring, and stabilizing.
At 9:15, I walk home, get yogurt at a gas station (they don't carry milk), and get home by about 10. Watch a Russian sit-com, in which I think I only understood two words. The overacting, however, made the story perfectly clear. Read some of "The Red Badge [of Courage]" and off to bed. I'm starting to position myself for the farewell party and the gift-wrapping [of items for the orphanage staff] that has to happen. Was thinking about this as I fell asleep.
Earlier, probably a few days ago, I forgot to report about an interesting interaction between Kola and one of the orphanage worker women. I don't remember seeing her before, but they were obviously on good terms. She was sweeping outdoors behind the building, and asking him something about his brothers and sisters. He was ignoring her question and talking about other things. I prompted him to tell her how many siblings he had. He explained it all to her, and ended by saying, "I'm the sixth!" She exclaimed, and we moved on. So, all of the counting to 6 while swinging, and reciting the names of the siblings, and making six windows out of construction paper (with a different child in each window) is evidently sinking in.
Mikola's Baptism
Sunday, October 26, 2008
10:30 am
Trinity Lutheran Church
300 S. Ardmore Ave.
Villa Park, Illinois
Trinity is located at Ardmore and School St.
one mile west of Kingery Hwy and about three blocks south of St. Charles Ave.
See Trinity's website(trinityvp.org)for more detailed directions.
Potluck dinner after the worship service
sponsored by Trinity's Board of Parish Fellowship
Anticipating Change
The excerpt below is taken from Jonathan's journal entry for October 1. It anticipates the changes that Kola is facing now. Very overwhelming for a five-year-old child! The words in brackets are my editorial additions.
_______________________________________________________________
AM: Visit [at the orphanage] interesting. From the first, K. was very distracted, worse than ever, I think. He said good morning without looking at me (unfortunately common), but even afterwards, didn't respond to my questions. We wandered the grounds, and he was racing from thing to thing without allowing a comment or question to ever receive a response.
So, I cradled him on my lap on some steps behind the building (luckily, no big groups [of children] parading by during this time), and started asking him if he was afraid of something or sad about something. He very strenuously resisted talking about this. He asked for us to walk, for me to let him go (sound familiar?), for another drink of water, and on and on. I held him pretty tightly, kissing him on the face and looking at him all the time, and said that next Tuesday, when he would come to the flat [apartment] with me, there would be a bed there, bathroom, kitchen, food, and his things. We would go out walking every day, watch some television, eat, sleep, and play. I asked, "Is it scary for you?" He was still for the first time, and nodded his head slowly, without speaking. Then I said, "It'll be OK." ("Tse bude normalny.") Then I asked if he was ready to walk some more. He was much more settled after that. When I said we had about five minutes left, he got his hat on and headed back to the group (that had gone inside), and returned to them early, saying that I had said it was time. Interesting.
Just before this, we had an unusually long swing session. I began singing to him. (I've mostly been singing the two Thanksgiving hymns that we do at home.) I sang the alphabet song and the Doxology, as well. He pretty much lets me sing an entire piece before interrupting.
Yushchenko? Mama?
Jonathan and I talked this afternoon, and we are both taking notes on all the events of this past week. I only have time for one story today. As a reminder, to put this story in context, remember that the First Lady of Ukraine (Kateryna Yushchenko) visited Kola's orphanage about a year ago. He and some of the other children sang and danced for her. The First Lady then talked directly with Kola, asking him about his situation.
________________________
When I left Kirovohrad about three weeks ago, we told Kola that my journey would take me first to Kyiv and then to America. Today, Andrei (Masha's brother) drove Jonathan, Kola, and Masha on the long trip to Kyiv. When they came to the outskirts of town, Mikola asked if they had arrived in Kyiv. Jonathan said yes, and then the car proceeded through another hour of rush-hour traffic. When they arrived at the apartment, Mikola asked Jonathan if they had now arrived in America!
While driving through Kyiv, Mikola kept looking at the automobiles and asking, "Is that one Yushchenko's car? I know he lives here! Is that Yushchenko's house? I've seen it on TV!" He chattered on and on in his excitement, as he looked in vain for the First Lady's husband. I can imagine that Masha and Andrei were holding their tongues, for they come from a region of Ukraine that overwhelmingly supports the opposition political party.
Jonathan and Kola climbed the stairs to the apartment, and Kola got even more animated. "Papa, will Mama be here?" "No, Kola, she is in America taking care of your brothers and sisters." And later, "Will Mama cook supper for you, and me, and my brothers and sisters?" "No, Kola, they are in America."
When your entire world has been one building on grounds the size of one block, it's impossible to understand a city like Kyiv and a country like America. No matter how many times Masha and Jonathan explained it to him, Kola still asks where we are. He'll have to experience the trip for himself for any of this to make sense.
Goodbye and Hello
The day we met Mikola, we asked the orphanage director and doctor about his health, both physical and psychological. They described his personality as outgoing and friendly, but on rare occasions his mood would darken. Those times always followed the adoption of another child. He participated in the adoptee's party, accepted their goodbye, and watched them drive away in a car with their new parents. The three Huckabee children left, about a week after Jonathan and I had arrived, at a time when we all stood outside at the front of the orphanage. For a long time, Mikola stood still at the front gate, watching their taxi pull away and clenching the iron bars of the gate as hard as he could.
Last week, since the weather was nice, Jonathan and Mikola spent a great deal of time on the grounds of the orphanage. Over and over, people would greet our little boy ("Kola"), and he would respond to them by name. They would then wish him all the best with his new family, and formally say goodbye, since they might not see him on his departure day. These people were not only staff members at the orphanage; Mikola's friends also included neighbors from the houses in the vicinity of the orphanage. For many years, Mikola had greeted them by name from behind the wrought iron, reaching beyond that fence to brighten someone's day.
This morning, Jonathan received a telephone call from Masha: "Due to some needed translation work, I can't arrive until Wednesday. We will need to reschedule Mikola's pickup at the orphanage for Wednesday, not Tuesday." Jonathan told her that changing the date was not possible: "For an entire week, I've been preparing Mikola that Tuesday is the day. Can you find another translator for us?" Masha made the arrangements, and a local English teacher agreed to do the work. Jonathan then childproofed the apartment, mostly by packing suitcases, and then met one of our taxi drivers, Ihor, who had previously agreed to be on call all day. Jonathan and Ihor ran around town in the taxi, running errands but mostly buying chocolates and flowers and apple juice and bananas. Jonathan arrived at the orphanage for the late afternoon appointment. He signed reams of documents, which our lawyer gave to him and the translator explained. Then Jonathan met Mikola, who was sporting the new clothes Jonathan had previously brought for him. For the first time, Jonathan visited his living quarters, to accompany Mikola during the final goodbyes with his classmates and caretakers.
Mikola's group has approximately twenty-five children, mostly 3½ to 4½ years old. As a 5½-year-old, Mikola stands a head taller than the other children. The children his own age had left the baby orphanage over a year ago, moving four blocks away to the facility for schoolage children where our first five children lived. The director of the baby orphanage had not sent Mikola with his classmates because she knew he would be adopted soon. A double move in quick succession would be very difficult for a young child. Unfortunately, Mikola's adoption was delayed by an entire year, and he waited for what must have seemed an eternity to a little boy.
The children drank apple juice and savored their bananas, which are better than candy to them. Jonathan handed out gifts to the caretakers, and left gifts for the ones who work on a different shift. Tears were shed, for Mikola had been their child for 2½ years. Yet everyone knew that a goodbye was inevitable; if Mikola wasn't adopted, he would have moved on to the next orphanage. There is great joy among the staff members that Mikola is joining a family and being reunited with his brothers and sisters.
The children in Mikola's group then stood in a circle, and he moved slowly from one to the next. Shaking each child's hand, he spoke to them one by one to offer a goodbye: not the "Pakah" that most children say, but the formal words that adults use: "Do pobachena."
Jonathan and Mikola walked to the director's office. This kind lady cared for Mikola for 4½ years, saving him so he could join our family. She clearly loves Mikola as one of her favorites: he would often play in her office while she worked. Jonathan handed the immense bouquet of flowers to Mikola. He was so proud to thank her by giving her flowers, and then he said goodbye. Neither she nor Jonathan could hold back their tears. Jonathan told her that words could not express our thanks at all she had done to care so well for him.
Jonathan and Mikola walked out of the orphanage for the last time. I haven't heard, but I can imagine they might have petted the two orphanage cats who often sit at the door. They walked to the front gate, and this time Mikola walked through instead of watching. Two vehicles waited--Ihor's taxi and the lawyer's private car. The lawyer offered to drive Jonathan and Mikola, so Jonathan thanked Ihor and they all loaded up into the car and drove away.
The lawyer dropped off Jonathan and Mikola at the telephone store in downtown Kirovohrad. Outside the store, Mikola was entranced by the lights that draped some of the trees--he had never seen such a thing. Inside, Jonathan paid money for a telephone booth that had two receivers, so that he could translate. After settling Mikola down, who was playing with the cord on the phone, Jonathan dialed Chicago. After talking with me (more on that in a moment), I passed the phone to my mother and father. "Kola, this is grandma. I love you!" "Kola, this is grandpa. I heard you had a party today . . . ." My parents welcomed their newest grandson, and I beamed.
When I spoke with Kola, I asked how he was doing and we talked a little bit. I then told him I loved him. Then he HAD to tell me something of great import, in more ways than one:
"Mama, I rode in a CAR!!
Answer to Prayer
THANK YOU to all who have been praying for Jonathan. Your prayers helped him a great deal. For all his heartbreak yesterday, today was more joyful, despite the tears. He is no longer so alone.
Please Pray
Jonathan telephoned me today. We talked for a long time. He is going through momentous events right now, and feels very much alone. Please pray for him--for courage, peace, and the ability to smile through his tears. Jonathan's journey right now is one of tremendous joy and profound sadness. Before hanging up the phone, we prayed for each other and the children, and I promised that I would ask others to pray for him.
Kola's First Phone Call
It's very expensive for Jonathan to telephone from Ukraine to the U.S. on his cell phone. The price is quite reasonable, however, if he calls from the telephone section of the post office, and these calls go through pretty reliably. Unfortunately, Mikola can't leave the orphanage grounds to join Jonathan for these phone calls.
It's been difficult to call Jonathan from here. We have two different international calling cards, but the connection seldom goes through. I don't know if it's the telephone system or his particular cell phone. Last week, over a three-day period, I dialed him about twenty-five times, and all my attempts were unsuccessful.
But if we're going to talk with Mikola (5) by telephone, the call must go from here to there. So Jonathan and I arranged for me to telephone this morning at 8:00 am, which is 4:00 pm there. Saturday is the only morning when the children are not attending school or preparing for church. I telephoned twice as I ate breakfast with Sarah (10) and David (9), but the calls didn't go through. Then it was time to leave for Ukrainian school, so I loaded the two of them into the car.
I attempted to call again from the car, without success. We drove awhile, and I pulled over to try again. This time, I didn't wait for the ringing, but just handed the phone to Sarah and started driving again. We were getting late for Ukrainian school, and the call wouldn't go through anyway . . .
"Papa!" Sarah exclaimed. "Is that you?" The connection was poor, but we were in business! Then came the first words ever with her youngest brother:
"Kola?" Silence.
I urged her, "Sarah, say Dobre dehn [Hello]!"
"Dobre dehn." More silence.
"Mama, I can't understand him!"
"Say 'Papa' and he'll come back on the phone to help you."
Jonathan got on the line, said something to her, and then she tried again.
In the meantime, as I'm driving down Interstate 290, the decibel level in the car increases. The road noise roars, the defroster blows, and the charger for the telephone makes a whirring sound (I'm not about to run out of battery for THIS call). In addition, David is talking loudly from the back seat:
"Mama, what am I going to say? What if I don't understand him?"
I told him, "David, first, talk softer so that Sarah can hear! Second, when you talk to him, say 'Dobre dehn' and "Yak spravi?" [How are you doing?]."
"Mama, I can't!"
Suddenly, Sarah handed him the phone. He took it, and didn't say a word!
"DAVID, SAY 'DOBRE DEHN'!"
David paused again, but finally said some words:
"Hello?? . . . How . . . are . . . you?" [in English!]
"David, say it in Ukrainian!
"Dobre . . . dehn . . . ."
Papa came on the line to help him. Then David and Kola talked briefly, with David mostly listening.
Next the telephone came to me, as I continued driving down the interstate. I started by saying, "Kola? . . . Dobre dehn!"
I heard a young but clear voice in the distance: "Dobre dehn!! Yak spravi?"
"Dobre [good]", I answered. Then he said some words that I didn't understand, except for the word 'Mama.' When I didn't respond, he repeated the same words over and over, louder and clearer each time.
Jonathan came on the line. "Mary, he's telling you that he misses you."
My Ukranian is poor, and I didn't know how to tell him that I also miss him. So, I used my broken Ukrainian to tell him something that I DID know how to say:
"Kola! Ja lublich tih . . . duzhe, duzhe dobre!!"
[Kola, I love you . . . very, very good!]
After that, Sarah talked and mostly listened for a few more minutes, and then Jonathan hung up the phone. I talked at length with the children, who displayed a mixture of emotions--excitement, wonder, dismay, uncertainty. They were very concerned that they couldn't understand what he was saying.
"Remember, Sarah and David, it's difficult to hear with an international call--and on the road, no less. And Kola is only five years old, so he doesn't know how to speak slowly and with easy words. We're going to Ukrainian school right now--why don't you ask your teacher to write down some phrases that you can use in your next call?"
Now, that's experiential learning! David finally saw a reason for attending Ukrainian school! When we arrived, I praised them: "David and Sarah, you talked to Kola for the very first time. And that might have been Kola's first phone call ever. I'm very proud of you!"
They smiled and walked into the building together. I drove a few blocks and pulled the car over to the curb.
Emotions of all kinds overwhelmed me. Kola's homecoming and reunion is beginning, and it suddenly feels very, very real. Imagine . . . David and Sarah spoke today with their youngest brother for the very first time! Four and a half years ago, when they last saw him, he was only a babe in arms.
And through my head rang the words of a little boy who could never remember a mother until a few weeks ago:
"Mama, I miss you. Mama, I miss you."
I cried and cried.
Jonathan's Journal, con.
Note from Mary:
I'm glad Jonathan has time to write. Otherwise there'd be nothing for the blog, since I'm crazy busy!
P.S. My additions are in brackets:
___________________________________________
Journal
DAY 6 ( Monday, 29 September 2008)
AM: I tried to take the laundry in (by cab) not far from home. It's just down October Revolution St. beyond the river. Not open. Clothes stayed in cab trunk all day. Took banana in the morning. We [Jonathan and Kola] were outside both sessions today again. I think that's our permanent situation, unless it rains. We tied a piece of broom end to a stick with the shoelace Kola uses to tie up the chestnut bag. He proceeded to "help" clean up the sidewalk.
I ate at Dobrych Cafe, tried again to deliver laundry, bought Kleenex, searched for postcards, bought 180 gr. of children's books (finally found the right book store), did e-mail, and bought dress shoes for him - very cute and on sale for 20 USD (down from 30 USD)
PM: I brought half an apple and one piece of chocolate. He seemed more quiet today. I reviewed next week's leave-taking, party, clothes. I put the apple in HIS bag this time, which renewed interest in his bag. He gave up his beloved Kashtani (buckeye seeds?) by rolling them down the slide. [U.S. customs does not allow them into the States.] He also worked a second little puzzle that I brought (Ya cam!), tried on his new black shoes, and left them on until our farewell. He saw an airplane, and I reviewed what's in an airplane (movies, meals, warm napkins, etc.). Got his signature on 5 postcards. Could hardly believe he finally did this.
I phoned home - [ . . .] - and went home early. had a good long chat with the landlady/former inspector about all of the kids, paid her for the first two weeks (minus the first two days that were already paid), and found out that the water will be out Tuesday through Friday (planned renovation/maintenance). This explains why the laundry is not taking clothes at the moment. Oh, dear! After she leaves, I cook, bathe, [ . . .], and update the journal.
Another Journal Entry from Jonathan
JOURNAL
DAY 5 (28 September 2008)
AM: Breakfast, Church, and a 45-minute visit.
I told Kola that I had lit 8 candles, one for each member of our family, and said a prayer for each, naming each person for him. He repeated what I was saying in question format, as when we ask to confirm that we heard right. He was pretty thoughtful about the whole church thing.
AT CHURCH (Do Tserkvu): an interesting exchange. I was there from the beginning of the service (just before 10 am) through the offering, pretty much. After opening Kyrie and Gloria (maybe), I took the 8 candles I had bought and went to a side condlestand that was pretty much empty to give my 8 prayers and divest myself of my cargo, crossing myself before each prayer and lighting the candle and planting it, as best I could.
Now, there was a lady there, I'm sure part of the church staff (or a conscientious volunteer), who made it her business to keep all things as they should be. Luckily, she was friendly. She first told me not to drip the wax into the candle holder, rather heat the bottom of the candle and stand it in the holder. She had to eventually show me, since she was also saying all kinds of other things very quickly and probably in Russian. Then, she told me that when I pray, I should face the ican, cross myself and bow, then plant the candle. She was miming this all, so I'm sure that is what she was saying.
Then, she suddenly stopped herself and said (in clear Ukrainian), "Oh, you're just a Christian," (meaning, not Orthodox). That seemed to satisfy her, and she moved on. I proceeded to give several more prayers and condles to this fairly empty holder, but couldn't face the icon exactly because others were in the way, and I was crossing myself and bowing and doing the candle right, when she returned, clearly vexed, to correct me on one more point, which clearly couldn't be ignored, even if I WAS just a Christian.
I was giving all of my candles to the same stand (using them all on the same icon), which was either wrong, destructive, distracting, or (at the very least) ignorant. I was to give only one to each icon that I wanted, moving on to another and another, till I was done. For all I know, I was praying to a saint (if that's what Orthodox do) who only helps women or widows or some horrible condition. This particular candle stand WAS empty, and I was only going there so that I could fit all 8 candles on the same stand. Who knows what they thought I was doing. But, either way, I stopped before I damaged myself any further.
More Journal from Jonathan
JOURNAL
DAY 5 (28 September 2008)
AM: Breakfast, Church, and a 45-minute visit.
I told Kola that I had lit 8 candles, one for each member of our family, and said a prayer for each, naming each person for him. He repeated what I was saying in question format, as when we ask to confirm that we heard right. He was pretty thoughtful about the whole church thing.
AT CHURCH (Do Tserkvu): an interesting exchange. I was there from the beginning of the service (just before 10 am) through the offering, pretty much. After opening Kyrie and Gloria (maybe), I took the 8 candles I had bought and went to a side condlestand that was pretty much empty to give my 8 prayers and divest myself of my cargo, crossing myself before each prayer and lighting the candle and planting it, as best I could.
Now, there was a lady there, I'm sure part of the church staff (or a conscientious volunteer), who made it her business to keep all things as they should be. Luckily, she was friendly. She first told me not to drip the wax into the candle holder, rather heat the bottom of the candle and stand it in the holder. She had to eventually show me, since she was also saying all kinds of other things very quickly and probably in Russian. Then, she told me that when I pray, I should face the ican, cross myself and bow, then plant the candle. She was miming this all, so I'm sure that is what she was saying.
Then, she suddenly stopped herself and said (in clear Ukrainian), "Oh, you're just a Christian," (meaning, not Orthodox). That seemed to satisfy her, and she moved on. I proceeded to give several more prayers and condles to this fairly empty holder, but couldn't face the icon exactly because others were in the way, and I was crossing myself and bowing and doing the candle right, when she returned, clearly vexed, to correct me on one more point, which clearly couldn't be ignored, even if I WAS just a Christian.
I was giving all of my candles to the same stand (using them all on the same icon), which was either wrong, destructive, distracting, or (at the very least) ignorant. I was to give only one to each icon that I wanted, moving on to another and another, till I was done. For all I know, I was praying to a saint (if that's what Orthodox do) who only helps women or widows or some horrible condition. This particular candle stand WAS empty, and I was only going there so that I could fit all 8 candles on the same stand. Who knows what they thought I was doing. But, either way, I stopped before I damaged myself any further.
One more thing: There were two younger men circulating for offering. I gave a 20 gr. ($4 USD) (more than most of what was in there) to the first guy, who was dressed like a young priest. Then, the second (who looked like a seminarian, maybe dressed all in black) came around, right behind him, and people gave to him as well, making me think that we were giving to two different causes, or two different categories of church workers, or something. I believe the box in the church is either for the building upkeep or the poor or some mission. Hard to say.
